My flight out of Toronto was cancelled this morning. Not delayed. Cancelled. I was at the airport a little before 7 a.m., and the next American Airlines flight to New York left at 1:25 p.m. Not a good situation.

The veteran move? Convincing American Airlines to rebook me on an Air Canada flight that left at 9:15. All’s well that ends well and I’m sitting in my apartment with enough time to do some laundry, write some off day stories and finally decide whether I’m driving to Boston tonight or in the morning.

Meanwhile, the one thing less predictable than flying seems to be raising children.

Sam has a little girl at home, and because he’s tending to some fatherly responsibilities — raising, nurturing, that sort of thing — we’re pushing today’s chat back to 1:30. It’s a half hour delay. Not cancelled. Just delayed.